


Hit and Run

by thatdragonchic



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: 90s AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Aris kind of sucks, Bisexual Thomas (Maze Runner), Gay Newt (Maze Runner), It's so worth it though, M/M, Newt makes him happy, Newtmas in the 90s, Slow Burn, Thomas is unhappy with his life, Thomesa broke up, i'll add tags as i go, its 1992, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 02:31:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14392359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdragonchic/pseuds/thatdragonchic
Summary: Thomas is generally unsatisfied with his life, and he's set that things need to change. He wants excitement, wants change, wants color, and new flavors, wants to be his full self. He doesn't want to feel lost anymore. Though when your life feels set in stone, how can you change everything? Well, destiny has a funny way of making things happen.One second he's driving through the snow, and the next he's almost hit a gorgeous blond boy on the road. Andshithe's gorgeous, and... is he flirting?This is the story about how "Newt" (as he likes to be called) Changes Thomas' life in the year 1992.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> SO Shoutout to the homegirls on my FBN chat, they were absolutely wild about this when I wrote this as a joke, and so here we are. A fleshed out fic. This fanfic is honestly going to be a little wild, and a lot more fun than some of my other ones, just that kind of vibe that it has.  
> Dedicated to Jo, Chloe and Amy - my FBN squad - you all are so loving and supportive and great. I hope this lives up to what you hoped when I said I was fleshing it out?

6 months had passed since he dumped Teresa, and now it was December 15th and as if celebrating their dumpiversary, she had invited him out to coffee and well… he wasn’t really about to tell her no. Mostly because Teresa had loved him, and loved him, so she claimed for three whole years… give or take. Thomas did not love her and love her. Well… he used to. At first she felt like his perfect match. They were equally tame, like minded people. Teresa used to be a little reckless but looking back on it, she was never really reckless at all. Just messy. 

She’d always been a little… unyielding. Teresa did what Teresa wanted, it was always what she thought was right, even if Thomas disagreed. It was serious business after the first year, and they sort of just became settled.  _ He  _ settled. He was convinced he needed the money, to support them, so even though he learned he hated business, well business made good money and money would buy them a house. Allow them a family- except Thomas didn’t want a house yet. Or a family. He wanted to travel, he wanted to go to weird restaurants, he wanted to have sex and feel  _ good  _ about it. Not like he was prioritizing the maintenance of their relationship, as Teresa would so often say. 

“Are you seeing anybody?” She asks a bit hopeful and Thomas mind shifts to the past 6 months of his life. Nothing stood out. Even as he’d dug himself out of their relationship, he didn’t quite feel that he’d landed on the ground yet. He was sick of the turbulence he felt inside himself, the rocky emotions he’d come to feel about his life, his career choices, his whole life. He wanted to do something more, something different. It was 6 months of null. Of nothing. Don’t be mistaken though, he doesn’t miss her. He  _ needs  _ to be without her. Needs it.  

“No, I’m not actually,” Thomas says, pressing his lips together. “I uh… I think that’d be kind of shitty considering we were together 3 years,” he excuses, though he thinks if he could just find the right  _ person  _ he would fall pretty hard. 

“You aren’t? Well, God, I thought you’d dumped me because…” She trails off, and sways her head side to side a bit, unsure, before pursing her lips and shrugging. “I thought maybe you sort of figured something out about yourself.”

“What?”

“Well… you always said you were…” she leans in a bit, and practically whispers, “ _ bisexual _ . And well, I don’t know, I figured it was a phase. That you just decided to be… swinging for the same team.”

“What? No- no, you’ve got it backwards, that’s not how it works. I just… I was bored of our relationship.”

“We had everything worked out-”

“ _ You  _ had everything worked out. I don’t have… anything worked out. Not really.” 

“So you’re unstable?” Teresa assumes, sipping her coffee. “Are you saying, I made you unstable?”

“I don’t know, I just… I didn’t want to get married yet, and I didn’t want to be with anybody, and I don’t like the life I’m living.”

“So what have you changed since I left?”

“I’m working towards a promotion at the internship, if that’s possible.”

“That’s it?”

“It takes more than 6 months to turn your life around.”

“Well, sorry, I wasn’t aware your life need a makeover.”

“It does, sorry to tell you.”

“And you’ve done nothing, so what does that say-”

“You’re just mad I left you.”

“Here I was thinking you were going to propose and you  _ dumped  _ me.”

“I hadn’t felt in love with you for a year. Are you really about to tell me that us getting married wasn’t us settling? We’re  _ 21 _ -”

“I wouldn’t have been settling.”

“I would have been.”

“Maybe you are confused.”

“I’m not confused! I am absolutely bisexual, I want to own a business of my own, I want to do something with my life! I want to travel! I want things to be a little less dull, okay? I don’t want a family yet! I don’t want to be married until I’m at least 25 and I want to go and try new foods, and see new people, and have a group of friends that don’t bore me. That like to go out drinking sometimes. Or want to go dance some nights. I want a roommate who doesn’t listen to classical music 24/7 and makes grilled chicken every night. Do you know how gross grilled chicken is? It’s horrible! I want a life that I made for myself, I want my own things, my own space, my own life. That’s what I want, and sorry to tell you, you’re kind of controlling. My life was your doing, and I need to be alone. So if you’re here to win me back, you lost.” 

Thomas grabs his coat, hastily pulling it on, before rushing out of the cafe, he just barely misses a thin and very exhausted blond. “Sorry,” he mutters, head ducked. Neither get a good look at each other. 

He rushes home through the thick december air, on the way home he picks up the paper, pays the man, and then he heads up his campus apartment building to where his roommate Aris was waiting. Aris was in no way a bad guy, but he was apart of that brand of soft and mundane that Thomas finds unsavory. 

“So that didn’t go over well?”

“No. I think I’m going out for dinner tonight,” Thomas says, smacking the paper down on the brown, wooden table. And, okay, he fucking hates the color brown, any shade of it. Brown, beige, white walls that were barren. Simple bed sheets. Minimalistic style. That’s what was  _ in _ , supposedly. Thomas fucking hated it, thank the good lord that 1992 was finally almost over, maybe in 1993 a pop of color will come back. 

Except, Aris wouldn’t let it happen. Aris liked minimalism, and Aris liked simple things, and grilled chicken, and simple clothing, button ups too big for his thin body. Aris hated burgers, who the fuck hates burgers? 

“With who?” Aris asks, watching Thomas haphazardly throw up his coat. 

“Myself,” Thomas decides. 

“Yourself?”

“Yes. Myself.”

“Did you want me-”

“No, I want to go out alone. I have… thinking to do or something.”

Of course, the radio was on and there was classical music playing. They didn’t have a TV, like they used to in the campus dorms. Not that Thomas even really liked TV, but god it used to piss Aris off that he’d put on all those stupid shows as background noise. And at first, when they moved in, Classical music was fun, different. It was a mellow soundtrack to their lives. Often felt like dreamscape. Now it made Thomas want to blow his brains out. Like everywhere. Aris  _ only  _ liked that soft kind of classical music, the flute heavy kind, with the violins that played soft and the harps that wept angel songs. Dreamscape music. Nothing too upbeat or wild or change of pace. It was sickening, mind numbing. 

Thomas hates feeling  _ numb.  _

“This date really messed you up-”

“Just- stop talking to me!” Thomas snaps before softening. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” he basically whispers to his friend. “Please?” 

Aris nods and lets it go, Thomas sighing and heading to the bedroom they had, flopping on his bed, staring at his ceiling before picking up the novel he was reading. He’d put a slip over the cover, mostly because it was  _ Giovanni's Tale  _ which was about a homosexual love affair, and he’s avoided the topic of his bisexuality with Aris for as long as possible. He didn’t really want to bring it up now. The world viewed it as…  _ dangerous, confused, diseased.  _ He didn’t consider himself any of those. 

\---

Thomas’ life was a spectacular mess, a conglomeration of things he at some point sort of wanted but never really wanted. So now, at 21 years old, he’s stuck to fix this mess, and make do with what he has. 

He’s a business major, and he graduates next year, so if he switches, he probably won’t graduate for another few years. He definitely doesn’t want that. So what can he do with business? Well he could start one, and he already knows he wants to do that… but he really isn’t sure what kind of business he wants. He could be a business consultant… work corporate. Become some big manager. He…  _ could  _ just wing it and hope for the best. Couldn’t he? 

He glances at his menu, and well, figuring out dinner would probably be easier than his life right now. It’s a chic, ‘modern’ little restaurant. He decides that this very fancy seeming mac n cheese would do fine. He pulls out a pack of imported cigarettes, lights one up, looking over the drinks. 

“Ready to order sir?”

“Yeah uh…” He huffs out a streamline of smoke and leans back. “The mac n cheese with… well, what’s your favorite iced tea flavor?”

“Pardon me?”

“Your favorite iced tea flavor?”

“Oh well… I think the peach raspberry is the best.”

“Then I’ll have the peach raspberry.”

“Are you studying for something?” 

“You could say that.”

The waiter nods, offering to take the menu and Thomas smiles sweetly, thanking him kindly. His nametag read  _ Alby,  _ he has a smart kind of smile. 

Now back to work. Thomas sighs, taking another drag from his cigarette. God, what does he want to do with his life? Seriously, his life was a tragic mess. 

\---

Work was another one of those things. Things that he kind of hated. His internship was a 9-5 office job, and he could work his way out, if he really wanted to, he so could. Couldn’t he? He so could. He thinks he could. And it’s not even that he wanted to be a wall street stockbroker, with the mounds of cocaine on the table, he didn’t even want to do cocaine and everybody knows if you want to be a stockbroker you’ve gotta be a drug addict. Thomas thinks maybe he could do drugs and that’d make life better but, he shouldn’t. He can distinctly remember all the  _ D.A.R.E  _ sessions his last couple years of high school.  _ “DARE to say NO to DRUGS!”  _ the Cali presenters would chant in their too-hot california high school.

He sort of misses California and it’s mountains, but New York was just crazy enough that maybe he could break out of his mold if he dared to cross the street to another restaurant, or just drive through to a different province, he might find something worth living for. Except, there was a fair deal of areas that terrified him, and well, he was only a white California boy, and stepping into gang territory in Brooklyn just seemed like something he wasn’t willing to do. Even Times Square was a bit sketchy, and most streets were riddled with the prospect of heroine injectors. 

Except really, it wasn’t all that bad, people lived there and raised their kids there and thrived. And well, in the suburb there was drugs too. And gangs probably. All sorts of bad things, so what was Thomas really worrying about? He could go into those areas. He might find something nice. He also could get shot if he went to the wrong place at the wrong time, so there was that. 

Work, now, was especially excruciating. Tomorrow it was due to snow, so everybody was hoping they’d be let out early and well, everybody either was buzzing or could care less whether they went in or not. Thomas was, of course, just hoping for any reason not to come in. Was this really worth it? The promotion, staying, any of it? All of it? Who cares, Karen from the cubicle next door just found him fascinating right now and he smiles fakely sweet, pretending to listen. 

People said a lot of shit, and most of it meant nothing. 

“I mean, I can’t wait until summer break- hey are you doing anything summer break?” She asks.

“I’m not sure yet,” Thomas says, boredly, trying to fill out paperwork ahead of time. 

“You’re not?”

“It’s December?”

“And…?”

“I just barely agreed on Christmas plans, I don’t really think… that far… ahead?”

“Well if you need plans-”

“I’ll come to you first, I promise.”

No he won’t. He really won’t. Maybe by then he’ll have a girlfriend, or maybe a boyfriend. A stable kind of guy, somebody who was just past that boring edge of tame, somebody who was sort of like him, just not at all. Maybe a teacher type. He wanted somebody who would help him in the long run, not hurt him. Maybe he needed a boyfriend, maybe he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t need love at all. 

She leaves and he has never been so thankful. Ever. Thank God she left. 

\---

Snow, everywhere. They got to leave at 4.30 because it was snowing so bad and Thomas was angry, mostly because his life just made him angry at this point. Maybe he was driving a little faster than he should. He could hardly see three feet in front of him. That’s when it happened. 

First nobody was there, then he was just short of hitting a slender figure, not even 3 inches away now, he could clearly see the blond young man.  _ Holy shit.  _


	2. Russia Invades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas almost hits a stranger, and that stranger changes his life. At least, he changes his life for 24 hours, but will he ever see his handsome stranger again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK JO I FINALLY WROTE CHAPTER 2!!!  
> Guys I'm really proud of this?? It's both witty and atmospheric and just the right amount of descriptive  
> I'm also really tired oops

Let’s reiterate. 

Thomas is driving in the snow, he’s going 25 when he should be going 10. He’s cruising too easy. He can hardly see, he’s not even sure if he’s going down the right street but it’s so routine that he can’t imagine he’s on the wrong street. His body just knows how to get him home. As far as he was concerned, the road was clear of pedestrians. Until his high beams cloak a figure, tall, slender, just trying to cross. He was three feet, and he steps the break hard, the snow dragging him forward, just barely stopping 3 inches away from him, he honks, and in true New Yorker fashion, the guy slams the hood of his car, startled and unhappy. 

Thomas grips the steering wheel, eyes wide, heart racing in his chest. His whole body was  _ On.  _ Arousal paints his autonomic nervous system like a wall, all he can see is white for a second, white shock, white villainy. Thomas is panting, and his wits flood back to him, putting the car in park, scrambling out to apologize to the visibly startled man. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” The blond spits. “What the hell is wrong with you driving like that in the middle of a fucking storm, mate?” He was very clearly british, thick accent, the throw of the word  _ mate _ . 

“No I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking clear and-”

“You better be sorry! I-”

“Are you okay?”

“Barely, no thanks to you.”

“God I’m so sorry-”

“You’ve said that.”

“Will you please let me drive you home? You live on campus?”

“No I live on a campus apartment building.”

“Let me drive you home.”

“I’m not in the likes to get in the car with a  _ killer _ .” 

“Hey man, I was just upset. I didn’t…” He couldn’t really get a good look at the guy through all the snow, he’s cut off by a gust of wind and he looks up and the Blond’s face is all scrunched up. 

“You can drive but don’t kill me.”

Thomas nods, going to climb into the car, and as he does, he catches the guy mumbling  _ freaking snow, like Russia hit us with some snow ray or somethin’ fucking christ.  _ He shuts his door, waits for him to get comfortable. 

“I’m Samuel Newton by the way but I prefer Newt.”

Thomas smiles and shakes his hand, glancing at the blood on his sleeves and raising a brow. “Well Newt… I guess I’m not the only one with a killing on my list,” Thomas says, sort of nervous. Now would be a bad time to provide a name, if he’s learned anything from any horror movie ever. 

“What?” He asks before glancing to the sleeves of his shirt, peeking out from his coat. “Oh! Nonono, my god, don’t I look bad, now? I’m in pre med, headed to be a surgeon, and well… we were doing a deer dissection today and well, somebody is always too bloody stupid to get it right. Was just walking to get a syringe and this blasted bozo cuts an artery-”

“You killed  _ deer _ ?”

“Not personally no… This place let us have them.”

“And they were  _ fresh,  _ deer?”

“Well yeah, they have to be fresh, silly. Deer decompose all funny after they’ve died, and well it’s good practice when we need to drain blood, so they bring them right over. We were paged in really. It was spur of the moment.”

“That’s so sad.”

“Not as sad as you think.”

“Oh but you were saying- some bozo…?”

“He cuts an artery and gets blood all over me! Imagine taking this to the dry cleaners? They’ll fucking get me deported, thinking I’ve killed somebody.”

Thomas can’t help but laugh, Newt was really a character of animation. He was unlike anybody he’d ever talked to really.  “I know how to get blood stains out, if you wanted me to clean it.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Well my dad was a hunter, did a lot of farm jobs when I was younger. I used to help my mama take the stains out of the clothes, and so… I guess I learned.”

Newt nods. “I would quite appreciate that, actually. How much you taking for it?”

“Nothing at all. Consider it a favor, since I just almost killed you.”

“Thank you… well god, what’s your name?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Because it’s a stupid name.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. It is. And don’t ask if it’s my real name either.”

“I’m anticipating now. What is your name?”

“Bet you couldn’t guess it. Where do you live by the way? We’re just sort of cruzing.”

“Oh uhhhh- turn on the next right. Is it… Bartholomew?” 

“Ew no. keep going?”

“Yeah… then make another right, I live above  _ Kitsune’s Kitchen,  _ you can’t miss it…. Jasper?”

“Jasper, do I look like a Jasper?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Absolutely  _ not _ .” 

“Oh come on! What is it then?”

“Thomas Edison.”

It gets oddly quiet for a moment. “Rea- I mean… what did your parents hope you’d be an extraordinary mediocre film artist or something?”

“Mediocre?”

“Everybody knows it was Louis Le Prince who originally created movies.”

“Everybody?”

“Everybody worth a dime.”

“Guess I’m only worth your two cents, then, Newt.”

Newt laughs, leaning back fully into the chair, relaxing. It was snowing a bit harder and Newt just squints. Thomas finds the bright yellow and pink neon sign that said  _ Kitsunes Kitchen _ and manages to parallel park there. Newt looks outside and then looks over at him. 

“Well… it’d be an awful shame if you had to drive in all that snow again.”

“Is that so?” Thomas asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It is. And I quite enjoy your company. Why don’t you come inside… stay the night. I don’t need you actually hurting anybody.” 

“You mean it?”

“Yes, I mean it.”

Thomas nods and he shuts off the car. This should be interesting.

\---

Newt’s apartment is a fever dream in the best way, and Thomas’ eyes dance over the slightly iridescent roses on cream colored paper that decked all the walls he could see thus far. What wasn’t in sight was covered with photographs, posters, and within the foyer itself was a giant picture of Queen Elizabeth…  _ signed _ ?

“That’s a real signature,” he points out, obviously proud of it. 

“How’d you get that?” 

“It’s a secret.”

Thomas nods, and Newt flicks on the lights, a hoard of dazzling fairlights coming to life, flickering just slightly. They provide a soft illumination to the apartment, a perplexing amount of color from the bulbs, and a sort of magic from those that are not colored at all but just warm, yellow light. The couches were velvet red, and the table, the TV cabinet, and any other wooden furniture so far appeared to be white. Brilliantly shocking against such cream colored wallpaper with it’s soft roses. He had a few strange lamps, one of  _ The Lady of Shalott  _ but out her beautiful head was a rod to hold up a light bulb. It wasn’t on but he had a feeling it would look quite interesting when it was. Another lamp on the other end coffee table was of a couple dancing, but they were both scarcely clothed. There were plastic floor lamps that looked like flowers, ridiculously pastel in color. It was almost disgusting. 

Star Wars, Star Trek, Art, and something awfully french posters littered this one wall leading to the kitchen. Thomas was simultaneously getting a tour as he followed Newt, into a ridiculously white and rose kitchen. His coffee pot was a soft, pastel pink color. 

“You really loved this wallpaper huh?”

“Oh, some old Russian lady lived here before me. I just added my own few touches.”

He gestures to the coffee pot, then a rather decorative chandelier above the table. “You added that chandelier?”

“Yeah it’s awfully nice. Matches.”

The table cloth was in itself was rather brilliant and intricate. It was white, decorated with bunches of flowers and fruits. Thomas was rather impressed and his whole body seized with inspiration at the sight of so much color, so much life. Though now, in the soft lighting of Newt’s own home, he sees how beautiful he truly is. How his long, soft blond hair swoops into his eyes, his defiant cheekbones that demand you to look at them, you almost miss the natural highlight of his skin that glistens, perfect and porcelain in the light, dark eyes that are never ending, a slight pink blush that dances under his skin. 

Newt was  _ beautiful  _ in all ways possible, and Thomas thinks he might be hopeful when he notices Newt glancing him over in judgement. His eyes are calculative, unreadable in a way. Newt is adjusting the thermostat before shrugging off his coat, and  _ oh _ , how he rolls his shoulders is deceiving. Thomas is starting to think he’s perfect, and perhaps flirting a little. 

“So what’s for dinner, Tommy?”

“Thomas, never Tommy.”

“No, Tommy, because you almost killed me so I can call you whatever I want.”

“What?”

“What do  _ you _ want for dinner,  _ Tommy _ ?”

“What do you have?”

Newt shrugs, opening his cabinets to reveal pasta, rice, some bread, sauces, jams and a rather large thing of peanut butter. Newt goes on to list these things, forgetting to mention how  _ big  _ the peanut butter tub was, and goes on to say, “I also have vegetables, chicken that has to thaw and steak salmon.”

“What salmon?”

“Steak salmon? Salmon that’s cut really thick?”

“Uhm… pasta is good. Pasta is simple, you don’t have to go overboard really.”

“But I don’t have any garlic bread… well, I’ll make due with what I have. We can make garlic bread.”

“You don’t  _ have  _ to make anything.”

“Posh, you’re my guest afterall. Make yourself at home, did you need the shower or I have this lovely typewriter for school-”

“You have a typewriter?”

“Well… yeah, don’t you? My handwriting, after a while, can be pretty atrocious. I mean normally it’s quite nice but after awhile it… gets in that loopy way that doctors do.” 

“You’re not a doctor, yet.” 

“But I’m going to be.”

“Uhm… Would you mind if I showered?”

“Not really no…” he takes a moment to assess Thomas before shrugging. “I’ll give you some clothes I have that should fit you.” 

\---

Newt walks into his bedroom, not willing to say that the clothes were his ex  _ boyfriends  _ clothing, mostly because this guy might be checking him out, but he might not be. And holy shit, he was so pretty… how can somebody legally be that pretty? He had this cute upturned nose, and these slightly there freckles on the bridge of his nose. His face was sharp in a sort of way that just read  _ sexy  _ and his hair swooped up perfectly. It made his whole body run a bit warm at the thought of clothes he’s worn being on that boys body.

Was that weird? God that was definitely a little weird. He wonders if he’s come off the wrong way, before thinking that it doesn’t really matter considering Thomas almost hit him with his car. Grabbing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, he also grabs a towel for him, and heads back to the kitchen where Thomas is sweetly observing a picture of him and his sister Sonya. His cheeks are warm in color, dusted with a purple sort of shadow and Newt breathes in slowly, awed by him for a moment before snapping to his wits and clearing his throat.

Thomas seems startled.

“That’s my sister… Elizabeth Sonya. Call her Sunny,” he says softly, slowly approaching Thomas who takes the clothes, a small, quirk of a smile coming to his lips. 

“I’m an only child,” he addresses. “Must be nice to have somebody so close to your heart.”

Newt nods. “She’s a fresh little bastard but I love her. Now uhm…. Did you think you can handle the shower? I could show you?”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

Newt nods, showing him to the bathroom, where Thomas makes his departure and Newt smiles. “Take your time,” he offers, much softer than before and Thomas gives a puff air, something like laughter before shutting the door. Newt hazily saunters back to the kitchen, leaning against the doorway for a moment. He can’t quite explain it but Thomas made his heart race, he already felt a little in love with the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. He  _ never  _ fell fast, he was always cautious. But something about Thomas made him want to throw caution into the wind, to demand a date and some time together. He’d been awfully alone in this world, often finding himself in loveless relationships with guys who had no intentions of being with him beyond his bed, or if they did date him, it was superficial. Fake. 

Though something about Thomas felt… challenging. Different. Newt always liked a good challenge-

“Hey Newt-?”

Newt turns around, eyes widening a bit as he’s greeted with a gorgeously chiseled torso and his eyes dash up to Thomas, brow raising in an alarmed question.

“Uhm… I figured out the shower but your bathtub is doing this weird thing…?”

“Oh! Oh my god, I totally forgot,” Newt says, easily rushing past him, hand momentarily pressing to Thomas’ chest and he breathes in, holding his breath hoping Thomas didn’t take it any wrong way. He fixes it, easily, because well, he’s lived here almost two years now. “This place is really… it’s kind of different.”

“Different is good,” Thomas says, stepping forward as Newt stands up, the two awfully close and he felt like a deer in headlights. 

“I’m glad you like different then…” Newt whispers. “I uhm…” his brain was short circuiting and Newt wanted to melt. “I… I should go, make dinner,” he says, his legs feeling like jello, almost failing to let him walk past smoothly, and he shuts the door hard, wincing.  _ Fuck _ he whispers to himself, hoping it wasn’t loud enough that Thomas heard. What was he doing? He was being stupid. He was being so stupid. He straightens, taking a steadying breath and trying to collect the flurried thoughts in his head, trying to calm down. Thomas was nothing, he was just a boy and Newt could handle  _ boys _ , he wasn’t special or the one or anything. He was going to leave tomorrow and they’d probably never see eachother again. They probably didn’t even get along as well as he thought. 

It was fine. It was nothing. The idiot almost killed him, he couldn’t fall in love with him or anything because he had abs… very, very nice abs and probably a great dick to match and-  _ that’s besides the point!  _ Newt is  _ not  _ falling for a probably straight guy who almost killed him. 

\---

Thomas took longer than anticipated and he thinks he likes how he looks in Newt’s sweats, not acknowledging they weren’t his originally, just liking how they looked and how they felt. He could smell dinner from the bathroom door, and god it smelled lovely, he’s willing to bet money that asshole made garlic bread. 

Somehow all his troubles melt away and he’s awed by Newt in the warm kitchen lights as he places two full plates of food on the table, something about him was so familiar. His whole existence was so familiar. How could somebody so new to his life be so familiar, so warm? 

“Smells delish for just pasta.”

“I also made garlic bread and salad,” Newt says, before gesturing to a homemade raspberry iced tea. “You- you were taking long so I thought a refreshing iced tea. And I managed to snag raspberries at the grocery store yesterday and I just- I thought… well, I just thought it’d be nice.”

“You okay?”

“I haven’t had guests over in a while, that’s all,” Newt says. “It’s not too much is it?”

“No it’s perfect. Here you sit first, I don’t know what side you normally sit on.”

“Oh well… it doesn’t matter. You sit first.” Thomas almost sits in the chair he’s standing next to which faces outside and Newt scrunches his face disapproving.

“That chair?” Thomas asks softly.

“No, it’s whatever, any chair, either chair…” Newt says but sort of nods, and Thomas laughs, taking the other chair, that faces away from the door to the small balcony. 

They both just adjust awkwardly and Newt waits on Thomas, who waits on Newt. Newt finally lifts his glass and smiles. “Well, I suppose here is to not killing me, you absolute son of a bitch.”

Thomas snorts. “Yeah, shame I didn’t,” he jokes, the two touching glasses, eyes almost affectionate on each other before they sip at their glasses. They mostly eat in silence. 

\---

Newt likes TV, Thomas finds, as he watches a mindless documentary, hugging his knee blanket around his shoulders, Thomas on the floor comfortably as they watched. He glances up and thinks Newt looks cute. 

“You ever think how long it takes to make one of these?”

“What?”

“Documentaries.”

“Why’s it matter?”

“Well, who knows, they make loads of money for stringing coherent sentences about… well… the food industry. Don’t need a degree to do that. I could make millions doing this and instead I have like… what? 5 more years of studying easily- I mean forget med school, there’s still residency and whatever. I also have to get my license renewed. I mean I constantly hate myself for wanting to be a surgeon but it’s better than… god I don’t know- literature. Don’t get me wrong, I love reading, but who wants to sit there and analyze Faulkner for hours at a time? It’s fucknig boring mate. But this…”

“Simple stuff?” Thomas offers.

“Sure. Simple stuff. I mean… have you ever analyzed Faulkner? I hate Faulkner. Glad that pretentious motherfucker died. He was a racist too, you know?”

“Was he now?”

“I’m pretty sure.” 

“Not 100%? I mean he is dead.”

“For like 30 years, it’s not new information that he’s dead!”

“You feel way too passionately about Faulkner. What did he do to you?” 

“Have you read his work? It’s similar to being assaulted.”

Thomas snorts, nodding. “Just barely, I try to avoid reading anything classical.”

“What, are you a war story kind of guy?”

“Not really… more a biography kind of guy. I like to read a lot about scientists but I don’t know… I never pursued science.”

“Why not?” Newt asks, genuinely interested.

Thomas shrugs. “Everyone had other ideas for me,” he says with this sarcastic lilt, smiling fake as he shrugs one shoulder. “I always fit best in other places according to other people. Just… never worked out, and when I realized that I wasn’t really satisified, I was in too deep. Trapped.”

“You’re not trapped… nobody is trapped,” Newt offers. “You should fit best where you want to fit best.”

Newt slowly climbs down next to him. Thomas raises a brow.

“Trust me… My father wanted to me to study business, take over the family operation or whatever… be a big business man like him. I mean… I never got along too well with my parents to begin with, but took a lot of family to be a pre-med student. Always askin’ me- ‘what are you going to do with your life? Why that? Why not just do what I did?’ Have to fight for yourself, you know?” Newt says, face twisting in a frown. “You shouldn’t have to feel like your life belongs to other people because it doesn’t. Your life belongs to you. Should  _ only  _ belong to you, Thomas.”

“I wish I could say that were true.”

\---

It was about 2 AM as the wind howled outside, the snow falling rapidly. Thomas had blearily woken up some few minutes ago, the TV on again as Newt worked on the couch that he wasn’t sleeping on. He looked beautiful, even against the muted TV light. He shifts under the big covers he was provided, humming softly as he stretches. Newt looks up from his notes and rolls his eyes. “We got fucking nuked,” he decides.

“We got… nuked?”

“By the russians.”

Newt squints at the hard falling snow. Thomas raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t we be dead by now?”

“Oh we’re all dead… see… they nuked us, and now we’re just living through the asphalt aftermath.”

“Asphalt aftermath, artsy.”

“It’s the way it has to be sometimes.”

“You should write poetry.” 

“If we were alive, I would but we were nuked and now we’re all dead.” 

\---

The morning is spectacularly white and the roads are full of snow, no way out, and now where to go. Thomas sighs, burrowing under the covers. Newt had long gone to bed. School was closed, life was closed. Thank god for that.

\---

Newt is awakened to a beautiful breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and hot coffee, and he smiles softly at Thomas, who looks somehow much softer in the morning, younger somehow. 

“So what year of college are you?”

“A senior, but next year I have to take med.”

“Right… do you plan on staying in the area?”

“Probably… I like New York. Suits me a little better than London.”

“That’s where your from?”

“Yes, London. What about you?”

“California, more upstate though. No where near LA or anything.”

“So what I’m understanding, is you’re unimportant?” Newt teases and Thomas scoffs.

“I mean, probably.”

“Well, you’ve made my day with this beautiful breakfast if that helps any.”

Thomas nods. “Helps a lot… you’re… pretty great,” Thomas says and Newt feels like he could slip into an oblivion, staring at such brilliant whiskey eyes, fractured by the white that twinkled it’s light into the kitchen. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Thomas is flirting. But, alas, he knew better.

\---

They watch movie. After movie. After movie. And nap. And then watch more movies. Then nap again. Newt adopts a flirty nature and they sit close enough that they could cuddle, but they don’t. And Newt is  _ funny _ , Thomas finds, except he makes Newt laugh too. Newt laughs until his ribs hurt, and Thomas feels like he can’t breathe from how hard they laugh sometimes. Their commentary, to themselves exclusively, was hysterical. He never wanted to leave Newt’s side. Never wanted this day to end, because being with Newt was like learning to breathe all over again.

God, did Thomas like how air tasted all of a sudden. How it didn’t feel like a burden at all to just inhale and exhale slow. Thomas can’t remember the last time he’d felt this happy. 

\---

Thomas can finally leave around 7.15 and he’s sort of sad to go, because really, Newt was the best company he had ever had. Everything about Newt was exciting and whirlwind and comfortable. He felt like he had known Newt his whole life somehow, and yet there was a timidness there that said they’d only just met, perhaps for the first time in a long time. Two souls familiar but meeting again.

“Hey uhm… I don’t know if… I was reading you wrong or… what, but… I thought maybe we could go out to dinner sometime. Like… on a date?” 

Newt seems taken aback, and he shifts a bit on his toes, arms crossing as he laughs. “Uh… what?”

“I’m sorry did I-”

“No you didn’t! You didn’t read me wrong at all… I just… I didn’t think you- wow was I wrong.”

“I’m bisexual.”

“Oh… well… are you sure?”

“About being bi because yes-”

“No- ohmygodim _ so _ sorry,” Newt tumbles out quickly. “I meant… are you sure you want to go out with me, because-?”

“Yes I’m sure. Why don’t I leave my number on your stationary.”

He takes the pen resting there, and scribbles his number on the paper before he shrugs a bit and Newt nods. 

“I’ll call you… whenever I get the chance to make a date,” Newt says after a moment.

“Good…. Uhm… bye,” Thomas says and Newt nods, eyes filling with a certain sadness for a moment before smiling that stunner smile of his, the one that could knock Thomas down if he stared too long. 

“Bye, Tommy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! please feel free to leave your thoughts below or message me on tumblr at waldenbeckboys.tumblr.com


	3. The Search for Thomas Edison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt retells his 24 hour bliss with Thomas, and sets out on a search for him, because of course, it would be rude just to call. So Newt sets out on a journey to find Thomas Edison, the potential love of his life, who just so happens to sparkle.

“I have to find him,” Newt announces as they walk down the stairs towards the cafeteria, Minho takes a swig of his water, brows furrowing.

“How did you meet this guy, again?”

“Uhm… He almost hit me with his car?”

“He- and you’re going to go out on a date with him?”

“Well okay, he’s not as bad as he seems. He was just so nice- and he’s funny. And like, I guess kind of spacey- but haven’t you ever met somebody and just felt like something clicked?”

“I met  _ you _ . But shit, man, I’d never date you.”

Newt scoffs. “Not the same and you know it.” They walk into the caf, looking around at all the people, mingling and socializing. 

“This seems like a good place to start looking,” Minho offers.

“Good as ever.”

They search around and take a small round table at the center of the room. “So… like, how are you going to ask him out?”

“Hm?” Newt looks to Minho. “Oh, I don’t have to, he already asked me out.”

“ _ Newt _ , we have rules! You can’t sleep around with people and say no when they ask you out. It’s the rule.”

“I didn’t  _ sleep with him _ . He just stayed over, at my house, to ride the storm out.”

Minho raises a disbelieving brow.

“He did! I didn’t break any rules, because he never got in my pants.”

“What’s he look?”

Newt stretches his neck, thinking of a description for the young man he’d met. “He’s… pretty, lean but not too thin, right? And he’s got dark hair but it’s clearly not black, like it’s a nice brown color… sort of… olive skin, and- his  _ eyes _ . They sparkled. He was a sparkly eye kind of guy.”

“Major?”

“Uhhhh- business, I think? I never explicitly asked.”

“How old was he?”

“Well shit, not much younger than me I hope.”

“You hope? Are you sure he goes here?”

“Yes! He asked if I lived on campus, which means he must go here.”

“So… if  _ he  _ lives on campus, we’re looking at a freshman or sophomore. Like 2-4 years younger than you.”

“He looked older than that.”

“Plenty of guys look older than that. Doesn’t change anything- hey what about hideous sweatpants and gold wrist watch over there?”

“Are you kidding me? He screams straight.”

“He doesn’t scream straight.”

“Minho, babe, just take a good, fixed look at him. Does that, in any way possible, scream homosexual to you?”

Minho fixes on him for a moment before relucting. “Fine, I guess not.”

“Exactly. And no, I’m almost positive he’s a year younger than us at most. He said something about it being too late to change his major, or something?”

“Why would he want to do that?”

“Well it’s not  _ my  _ business to through  _ his  _ business around.”

“Fair, fair. Okay, so we’re looking at probably a junior then?”

“Probably?”

“Any extracurriculars?”

“No- I don’t know!”

“You mean you spent 24 hours with this guy and got no useful information?” Minho gestures to a guy with brownish-blonde hair.

“Not him, no.” 

“Who are his friends?”

“God, I don’t know. We just watched movies most of the day while I did up some notes.”

They both look over as Brenda puts her tray down and sits beside Newt. They were good friends, the two of them. “What are you two up to?” She asks.

“Newt almost got killed by a guy and decided he’s in love.”

“What’s his name? Maybe I know him.”

“Thomas,” Newt declares proudly. At least he knew  _ that _ .

“You slept with a guy named Thomas- and he almost killed you?”

“No, he was just- he was driving sort of fast in the snow and almost hit me with his car.”

“He hit you-”

“Almost hit me, Brenda! The difference is, one I could’ve died, the other I’ve avoided sudden death.” 

“Right, okay, so you almost die because of him, then you felt the smart thing to do was sleep with him?”

“I didn’t sleep with him!”

“Thomas what? Thomas is the whitest name of all time,” Minho cuts in.

“Edison?”

“Thomas Edison?” They both ask incredulously. 

“Yes, and before you laugh it’s his actual name.”

“How do you know?”

“I- what?”

“Did you card him or something?”

“What? God, no.”

“Just trusted him on that?” Minho prods.

“Why would you choose your fake name to be Thomas Edison?”

“Right because anybody who knows Newt know’s he vehemently disagrees with Edison.”

“He was shitty, okay? Nothing extraordinary. Just fed off the creations of other people and-”

“Focus- you have a man, remember?”

“Right, right. Anyways, my point is he seemed genuine.” 

“Fine, so what’s he look like?” Brenda asks.

“He sparkles,” Minho supplies.

“What?”

“He  _ sparkles _ .”

Brenda is watching him as if he’s crazy while she bites into her mac and cheese and well, Newt has a hunch one day these two were going to get married. That’s besides the point. 

“He has sparkly eyes,” Newt clarifies. “Not in general.” 

“Right, okay. So he’s not some 80’s pixie dream?”

“Not necessarily, no.”

“Oh! He had a really sharp cheekbones? Add that to the description.”

Brenda and Minho glance around and Newt is desperately trying to spot him, that if he squints hard enough, Thomas might materialize out of thin air. “How about that guy?” Minho asks, and Newt turns to look, and shakes his head.

“No, I slept with him once, he was nothing exciting. I think it was easily the most boring sex of my life, and we were in a bathroom at a frat party.”

“How is that even possible?”

Newt shrugs. “I don’t know, but I quite possibly almost fell asleep. It was like… Rasputin, but the opposite of a spiritual, healing, cleansing affect. It was really quite terrible.”

“Who’s Rasputin, again?” Minho asks.

“Some guy with a magic dick from Russia in the like 1920’s?” Brenda says.

“He was very close with the royal family,” Newt offers. “Never showered, got laid a bunch, was believed to be some healing savior.”

“With a magic dick?” Minho asks, confused.

“Who’s dick is magic?” Alby asks, sitting down next to Minho. “Did Newt sleep with somebody not from this school?”

“No, we’re talking about Rasputin,” Newt fills in. 

“Who?”

“Russian guy with a magic dick, real close with the last royals of Russia. Quite simple. Common knowledge even.”

“To y’all Europeans maybe. Did he really have a magic dick?”

“Legend has it.” 

“Anyways- Thomas Edison? Are you high?”

“It was his  _ name _ . We had a whole conversation about it in his car.”

“You didn’t even wait to get home? You had sex in this guy’s car in the snow?”

“We didn’t have sex in his car!”

“So you  _ did  _ have sex?” Brenda asks, and Newt gestures flustered.

“No! I was just being a generous person, and he just happened to be very pretty and a little flirty and okay- is he the brightest bulb in the box? Probably not! But he was really, really nice. And not in a like- Jack sort of way, he was genuinely the sweetest person. And I feel bad if I just call him.”

They all sort of seem sympathetic, and perhaps even apologetic for bagging on him so much about this. See his last boyfriend was a horrendous  _ mess.  _ Jack was… unstable in the worst of ways, and God bless Newt, he really did just want to help him. But he got trapped, in this loop of abuse and hurt and it took a lot of him to fight his way out after 2 years. Sure, Jack ended up in a Psychiatric Ward in a prison for almost killing Newt, but Newt got out, and he didn’t trust many people. No matter how much he wanted to just be  _ loved _ , Newt had a tendency to shut people out. The last time he fell in love, his life was on the line constantly. Then there was Nate, nobody liked Nate but he filled some of Newt’s spaces for a while, no dirty jokes intended. 

His parents had tried to bring him home for months, out of what little showcase of concern they displayed, but Newt explained they were really no better. They had ways with words and maybe they were looking in his best interest, it wasn’t that he was gay, he would explain, it was just he wasn’t… their perfect child. The business leader, the rich society man who went to balls and met princesses like they wished. He wasn’t their ideal, and maybe being gay had a part of it, but he said their overall issue was loving properly. It was something they simply couldn’t do. Out of no fault but their own, and perhaps being products of the society they were raised in. 

“We can find him,” Alby assures. 

“Hey, I was here first buddy, back off,” Minho says. 

“Where’s Waldo is a one person game but Where’s Thomas doesn’t have to be.” 

Newt huffs, resting his chin on his hand, and Brenda nudges him. “We’ll find sparkly eyes for you.” 

“What?”

“His eyes sparkled,” Newt offers.

“Our best friend is the cutest damn thing, ain’t he?”

Minho nods in agreement. “Fuckin’ precious is what he is.”

\---

Their next place to look was the library. Brenda had gone off to a class, in a scurry as she normally was, and Newt was left with Minho and Alby. Who had no sense of anything whatsoever, but Newt did get to oggle a few very pretty boys and that was a bonus.

“Are you sure you didn’t dream him up?” Minho asks.

“There’s like a million people at this school,” Newt argues. “And I’m positive. Unless I somehow was sleeping through class, dreamt I almost got hit by a beautiful guy, and then proceeded to hallucinate that he drove me home and stayed over-”

“Were you high?”

“I don’t get high, you know that.”

“Wait- he almost hit you? Like with his car?” Alby asks, confused. (Evidently, he missed this part of the story. Serves him right for being late.) 

“It’s okay, I yelled at him. He seemed very sorry.  Besides he spent a majority of the night listening to me ramble on about how we definitely got nuked by Russia.”

Both Minho and Alby snort. “Brits never seen fucking snow.”

“It’s not a natural phenomenon for it to snow that much. It can’t be.”

“It is,” Minho interjects, before pointing to a very slim figured young man, who looks really quite similar from behind and they watch as Newt perks up a second before frowning. 

“No it’s not him, he had… nicer shoulder’s. And his hair didn’t curl like that.”

“Well, let’s wait for him to turn around, you only got a glimpse of what he looked like. Maybe he showered.”

“He showered at my house. His hair definitely doesn’t curl like that.”

They both raised a brow.

“He was coming from work and I said he  _ could  _ shower if he wanted, and well, he said he could use a shower. So I gave him from the clothes Nate had left, and well…” Newt trails off and shrugs, cheeks burning pink with embarrassment. 

“Did he have a nice body?”

“It was a holy experience. I only glanced it, because you know- my bath does that weird thing? And okay, it was nice.”

They nod. The guy turns around and they look to Newt who’s face scrunches up. “Definitely not, he’s way too ugly.” 

They nod and Newt glances around.

They roam between shelves a bit, pace throughout. They even go to the silent room and scope it out. No sign of Thomas Edison anywhere. He was a myth, smoke in the air, transparent it seemed.

\---

“So there’s a poetry thing tonight,” Brenda mentions as Newt anxiously taps his pen in their anatomy class.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, get your mind of things, come with us.”

Newt shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s at the cafe, we’ll totally have fun. You like those kind of things.”

“I just… what if he doesn’t actually go here?”

“Don’t you have his number?”

“Okay, yeah… I could just call, but what if he doesn’t pick up?”

“Call again or leave a message. You know, the things that normal people do.”

Newt chews his lip, thinking and their heads are brought back as the professor walks over, glancing at their progress on the notes they were supposed to be doing on the reading he gave them. 

“Now I know, you of all people, are not flaking on me. Are you Mr. Newton?”

“No sir,” He says. “Just busy minded today.”

His prof takes it, leaves Newt to his own in the account Newt’s never been anything but the perfect student. 

“So what do you say?” Brenda asks.

“It couldn’t hurt to get out, then, would it?”

“No, it wouldn’t. You deserve a break.”

They said that a lot, that he deserved a break. He thinks sometimes it’s because they pity him, and other times he thinks it’s because he works himself harder than he cares to realize. A break wouldn’t hurt. 

“A break sounds nice.” 

\---

They were headed down to the poetry thing at the cafe, walking deliberately together, which seemed to piss enough people off, shoving pass them, muttering curses. True New Yorker fashion. Newt didn’t think much of it, and when anybody slammed a remark at him, he did his best to bite back in the most British way possible and that always threw people for a  _ loop _ . They don’t expect somebody so frail looking to “ _ Fuck off you bloody cunt, can’t you walk in the streets without making a scene? _ ” 

“Yeah but the government’s a sham, mate,” Newt insists. “Like, there’s a total possibility these like- theories, conspiracies are not a fake. What if they’re like- what if the world is being taken over by some rich secret society? Who are we to do anything about it or stop them?”

“Power of the people man,” Minho says.

“Bullshit. It’s total bullshit, because a lot of people- you know people- they’re like- they’re okay with their lifestyle! And so what if the government is in coherts with these people? They’re already a bunch of rich white bastards, and now we have some richer white bastards in cahoots with them- and so fucking what? They don’t care. People don’t care.”

“He’s right,” Alby says. “If we’re not directly affected, would we do anything to change it?”

“Don’t take his side,” Minho says.

“Mmm… I think I might take his side too, people are shitty,” Brenda offers. 

“You too?” 

“Well.. I don’t know, I think I personally would fight against it.”

“And then what?” Newt asks. “You end up in a dungeon being brainwashed by your national anthem, and end up saying ‘I love Big Brother’ while sitting in the cafe, staring mindlessly at the cup of coffee you ordered.”

“Big Brother?” Alby asks.

“George Orwell,  _ 1984? _ Helloooo did none of you read it?”

“Like years ago, in high school.”

“Oh my god.” Newt huffs, Minho opening the door for them, and Newt is walking in as he begins a rant on  _ 1984, _ “It’s easily the most important book in all of literature in the past- Oh!” Newt stutters backwards as he bumps into somebody.

“Holy- I’m so sorry I’m such a clutz-! Newt?” Thomas apologizes, hand grappling forward to help the person he’d hit before realizing who it was. 

Newt looks up, perplexed before grinning. “That’s 2 for 2 mate.”

“Hey, the first time you went unscathed.”

“You almost killed me!” 

“I didn’t though!”

“You very easily could have.”

“But I didn’t.” 

“He  _ does  _ sparkle,” Minho notes, Thomas having glitter cling about his brow and near his cheekbones due to a project poster he had been making for class earlier that day, before work. 

“What?” Thomas asks. 

“Nothing,” Newt interjects. 

“What do you mean I sparkle? Who even-” Thomas seems to put something together.

“It’s nothing,” Newt insists.

“You think I  _ sparkle _ ?” 

“No! I said- that wasn’t exactly- it doesn’t matter!”

“It does, because apparently you’ve been describing me to your friends and I  _ sparkle. _ ”

“You’re really full of it, you know that? I never said you sparkled, you’re just covered in glitter. Literally.”

“Right, and the proper way to word that is to seem as if he’s had a real revelation about how I do in fact sparkle.”

“Maybe. What do you care for?”

“You never called me back.”

“I meant to- It just didn’t work out for me to call. I’m a busy person.”

Thomas narrows his eyes, obviously skeptical and Newt is not looking for much of a confrontation. “So then answer now.”

All his friends are watching and Newt seems obviously miffed by this more demanding and perhaps, dare he say, coy side of Thomas. Cocky, and perhaps a little confident, his eyes gleam with hope. 

“Well, I’ve figured I don’t have the time for dating, and besides, when somebody almost kills you with their car- well I think it takes more than a rushed dinner date request to make up for it. Don’t you?”

And that was the end of it, Newt’s every wall went up as he shrugged and sauntered off to find them a table and poor, poor Thomas looked absolutely miffed, more miffed than his friends who had spent the whole day looking for the man. And here he was, standing right there, and Newt  _ shot him down _ . When they look back on it in the future, they’ll understand Newt was just trying to play his cards right, trying to protect himself from making the same mistakes, from throwing his heart about. Though, in that moment, they were perplexed. 

Thomas though, after a moment seemed determined and sort of nodded to himself. “No reason I  _ can’t  _ take criticism.”

And with the same boasting confidence as Newt, he leaves Newt’s friends behind too.

“Made for each other,” Minho says.

“I give them by April. Tripping with love,” Alby agrees. 

“A match made in heaven,” Brenda concludes. They all nod and join Newt who was already searching the menu as if he’d never been there before.

“What was I on about before, then?  _ 1984 _ was it?”

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE! leave a comment, let me know what you think of my opening chapter! Chapter 2 is already being written, hopefully it'll be up soon! Thank you for reading loves


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